Awaiting Fate
by Masqueraders
Summary: Nothing was right anymore. Her mother was gone. Music had escaped from her. Her dad wasn't making any of it better. But everything changes when a masked man seems to come to her rescue, helping her discover music again. Mostly Christine's POV, EC Modern
1. The Anniversary

**Disclaimer**: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera. Simple as that.

**Full Summary**: Nothing was right anymore. Her mother was gone. Music had escaped from her. Her dad wasn't making any of it better. But everything changes when a masked man seems to come to her rescue, helping her discover music again. E/C Modern day AU

**Insistent Author Ramblings**: Well, here it is! My first official fic here or anywhere. The co-written one with Broken-Mask doesn't really count, seeing as I only write every other chapter.

I'd like to give a HUGE hug to my best friend, Dene (Broken-Mask), for being as nitpicky as possible! It was a huge help. Especially with my whole semi-colon obsession. XD;

Before I start, I want to take this chance to tell you that I'm not exactly familiar with England and their talk and what not, so if someone from there would help me out, it would be greatly appreciated!

And now, so as not to keep you lovely folks waiting, I present to you…**Awaiting Fate**!

-** &** -

Tearing with hatred, I peered down through aching eyes at the picture of my mother that sat on my lap. Carefully, I traced her facial features with a numb fingertip. The light brown eyes contrasted with her dark hair, which was beautifully falling all around her angel carved face in curls. Mum's cheeks seemed to be kissed with red, blending perfectly with her light colored skin. A soft smile played across her rosy lips, and her neck slanted gracefully, so perfect.

She looked so happy, so glad to be alive. Oh, God, why did you take her from me? She was bound to be with you later, but you just had to have this angel! I suddenly thought of him as greedy, but I shook my head to clear my thoughts. But, why? …Why?

I looked up and stared at the couch from a chair in the shadowed corner, two memories flooding back to me from nine years ago…

_I stared down at the casket, wide open, revealing my mother's cold, darkened upper body. Her face was twisted into a frown, her nose scrunched up in the way she always looked at me after I told her a stupid joke. I smiled. I don't know why I did…We were at a funeral. This was no place for smiling. I remember it clearly; the day she died._

_Dad was away on a business trip, as usual. He wouldn't be back for another week, so my mum and I decided to have some "girl" time._

_Mum had been chasing me around the house, and we were giggling insanely. Finally, she caught me and plunged me down onto the couch in our den, tickling my feet._

"_Oh, I think I found a weak spot!" she cried with triumph._

"_Nuh-uh!" I protested, giggling, trying to pry her away from me._

"_Really? Well, then why are you laughing then, huh?" she retorted, moving her fingers more swiftly over the bottoms of my feet._

_I laughed in her face, and she stepped back in surprise. I hopped up and skirted away, into the kitchen, hiding behind our island._

_I heard footsteps approaching. I giggled under my breath, but it was just loud enough for Mum to hear me. Suddenly a shadow passed over my head, and I looked up, smiling. She was grinning as she reached over and picked me up by my underarms and putting me on her shoulders. I sighed happily and buried my face in her dark chocolate curls, breathing in the scent of her shampoo._

"_I love you, Mummy." I whispered._

"_I love you too, Lotte." She whispered back, kissing my hands._

_She carried me back into the living room, and plopped me back onto the couch. She put her hands on her hips and glared down at me._

"_Christine Antoinette Daae!" She preached, an accusing look in her eyes._

_I hung my head, pretending to be ashamed._

"_You know you're supposed to be doing your homework!"_

_I sighed. "I know, Mummy, but, haven't you heard the song? All the kids at my school have been singing it!"_

_She cocked an eyebrow, a stern look still on her face, but just a hint of amusement mixed in._

_I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to sing._

"_Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream! Throw your teacher overboard and listen to her scream!" I giggled at the ending._

_Mum wrinkled her nose and frowned, just like she always did when she head a cruel or unamusing joke._

_I closed my eyes, snorted with laughter and fell back on the couch, expecting her to pick me up and stomp me up to my room._

_But she didn't._

_I waited for what seemed like forever._

_But she still didn't._

_Instead, I was greeted with a loud THUMP._

_I sat bolt upright and snapped my eyes open. My mother lay on the floor, her eyes closed, and her face still in that unamused position._

"_M-Mummy?" I choked, "This isn't funny at all!"_

_She didn't answer me and still lay there, facing our ceiling._

"_Mummy! Please! Stop it!" I whimpered, standing up from the couch, trembling._

"_MUMMY! NO!" I screamed, rushing to her side. I pressed my cheek to hers, only to feel it freezing against mine. The color had drained from them. She seemed so pale…So…So…D-_

_No! She wasn't dead! She couldn't be! She couldn't leave me! Not like this!_

_I sobbed hysterically, bending over her and sprawling myself over her once warm stomach. I lay like that for hours, waiting for her to wake up. She never did._

_I must have fallen asleep, as I woke up to shrill ringing in my ears. The phone! Groaning, I shouted for Mum._

"_Mum, get that please!"_

_After a minute, my eyes snapped open with remembrance. Shaking, I turned my head down to see my Mum laying there. It hadn't been a dream! _

_I rushed to the phone, and my best friend Meg answered._

"_Hey, Chrissy! Want to head for the park?" She chirped._

"_Meg…My…My…Mum…" I said slowly, my eyes welling up with tears._

"_Christine? What's wrong?" She asked, panic entering her voice._

"_She's dead, Meg! She's dead!" I wailed, and she hung up the phone._

_About 10 minutes later, Amelia Giry, Meg's mother, rushed into my house with paramedics. I ran over to her, sobbing. She stroked my hair and tried to calm me. But I couldn't. My mummy, my dear mummy, was gone forever._

Tears fell silently from my face onto the picture's glass covering, splattering onto Mum's perfectly rosy cheeks. I rubbed them away quickly with my weathered sleeve, frantically, as if not to ruin her beauty.

Just as a fresh batch of tears rolled down my cheeks, my dad slipped into the room. I looked up, my mascara clouding my eyes.

Hastily, I wiped away my tears with my other sleeve, hid the picture under my chair, and stood up, forcing a smile.

"G'morning, Sunshine." I said, swallowing.

Dad's eyes were tired and weary, but he smiled.

"Morning, sweetie. What in the world are you doing up this early?" He asked, yawning.

My eyes widened and I could have screamed. He should have known perfectly well why I was up so early! But, because I was too tired from crying, I decided to play along.

"Early?" I asked, sounding as dumbfounded as I could. Drama class paid off, after all. I looked out our large gaping window and saw that the sun was just rising over the horizon.

"Oh, well, I couldn't sleep and I thought I'd come down here to…To think." I said, choosing my words carefully.

I knew he didn't believe me, but I couldn't let him know about the picture. I kicked it softly to hide the corner of the frame that was sticking out from under the draped upholstery. He had taken almost every picture of Mum and hidden them somewhere, no doubt in his room. I hadn't been in there for so long, so I wouldn't know.

Straightening my nightgown, I stood up and hurried past him and into the kitchen, still trying to clear my eyes by blinking furiously.

"Breakfast?" I asked, starting to take out eggs and strips of raw bacon from the refrigerator.

Dad smiled at me again, walked over and kissed me gently on the forehead, sat at the table, and started to read the morning paper that I had picked up earlier when the paperboy came. I blinked and stared blankly at the floor in wonderment. I _had_ been up early.

As he continued to read whether it would rain tomorrow or not, I made breakfast slowly and nearly burnt the eggs, lost in thought.

"OW!" I screeched, flinging my hand away from the burning hot skillet. Flames were licking out from under it, threatening anything flammable in its way.

"Damn stove." I muttered, turning down the heat while Dad wet a cloth with cool water and wrapped it around my now lightly scorched palm. His hands lingered there until I hastily pulled away, continuing on with breakfast.

Finally I finished without another accident, and sat a plate stacked tall with food in front of him and another plate with nothing but a strip of bacon on it in front of me. He looked up from the newspaper and his eyes widened with concern. I kept my gaze on the table, prodding my food with a fork.

There was silence for several moments, which I had absolutely no problem with. I wasn't in the mood to talk. Not today. Not on the anniversary of my mother's death.

To my annoyance, Dad hadn't even mentioned the slightest thing about Mum. It bugged me how he could still go on being so okay with his life when I couldn't. I heaved a sigh without meaning to and began to clear my place even though my bacon was still in one piece on my plate.

But, before I could stand up, his hand had grasped mine in a tight hold. I stole a glance at him and then looked back down, seemingly interested with the light coat of dust that had gathered on the table.

We stayed like that for almost ten minutes, but it seemed like forever. After a while I stood up fully and tried to pry my hand from his, but he kept his hold firm. I let out a grunt of exasperation and still stood tugging away at my arm, trying to free myself. He cleared his throat.

"You know…It's alright to remember her. She was apart of you. Apart of us." His grip tightened and I winced slightly, "Just because she's gone doesn't mean she's…Gone."

My face grew hot with anger as I considered what he said. Of course she was gone! Tired of him trying to comfort me with lies, I managed to tear my hand from his and get up in his face.

"No, it's not." I whispered.

"Yes it is, and it always will be." He said soothingly, stroking my arm.

"For God's sakes, Dad! She's gone. G-o-n-e. What, do you think that she just went on another trip with Aunt Denise? Or, no, maybe she's been at a performance for the past nine years!" I screamed, my knuckles turning white from gripping the table.

"Nine years. Nine stupid damned years since she died. And you don't care. You don't care!" I paused to catch my breath and tears started to well up in my eyes when I saw his face was expressionless.

"Litte Lotte…" He began softly, trying to tousle my hair. I pulled away quickly and threw myself from his reach.

"Don't you dare call me that!" I hissed. "It was Mum's nickname for me. And guess what? Newsflash! You aren't her, and you never will be!"

I thrust my body from the table and ran up the stairs to my room where I slammed the door.

Flinging myself on the bed, I expected tears to come. But they were gone. Because I wasn't sad. I was angry. Angry about how she left me like that. Angry about how he could still hang on so easily when I couldn't bear to.

Breathing harshly into my pillow, I stayed that way the rest of the morning, not even peering up when I heard heart wracking sobs in the kitchen below.

-** &** -

Eh, short chapter, I know. Please don't kill me if it wasn't the best thing in the world!

And now, it's time for the magic to begin.

That's right.

**REVIEW!**


	2. Thank God for No Corsets!

**Disclaimer: **Once again, I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. Dammit.

**IAR (Insistent Author Ramblings): **Okay, I know that the format of the first chapter was LYKOMGPSYCHO, as is this one. I'm too lazy to go and change it, so deal. XP; Oh, and be warned, EC readers. There is a bit of RC fluffiness towards the end of this chapter. (prepares to hide from torches and pitchforks) I hate to do it, but it must be done!

**GoldenLyre:** Heh, yes. I know Christine was a little harsh on her dad, but I wanted a change in her character from the usual quiet, shy girl she really is. Or, I could blame it on hormones. Either way works, really. n-n And don't worry, Erik shall be arriving soon enough. ;D

**Shadow of the Phantom: **Yes, poor Christine! Things shall get better though! And thanketh you for the compliment. :D

Now, without further adieu, Chapter 2! And, no, I wasn't trying to make that rhyme. XP

**-& - **

I groaned with annoyance as my best friend, Meg Giry, admired herself in her graduation gown for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

"Meg, honestly! Could you be any vainer?"

She whirled around and glared at me.

"Well, sorry! But I look absolutely dazzling in violet, don't you think?" She giggled, spinning around and stumbling.

I sighed and rolled my eyes, grinning.

"You look fine in anything, Meg. You know that!" I laughed.

She grinned back.

"I know, I know. I just can't hear it enough, though!" Meg spun around again, this time much more graceful. She was a ballet dancer, just like her mother before her.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust at her cheesy rhyme.

"Slap me the next time I do that."

"I'd be more than happy to, your majesty." I mock bowed in my seat. Meg narrowed her eyes and threw a discarded dress at me, which I dodged easily. A smirk crossed her face as she picked up a hat and threateningly swung it around in her hands.

I chuckled and stood up, peering around the clothing shop we were in. We had been in there for almost two hours, looking for my perfect graduation dress. It was hopeless. I'd tried on red dresses without straps, green dresses with straps, blue dresses with frills, yellow dresses that came up way too short, everything!

I sighed sadly and sat back down. Meg looked over at me from the full-length mirror and frowned.

"Christine!" She scolded, wagging a finger at me.

I looked up from staring contentedly at the ground.

"Stop being lazy and look around…Again." She smiled.

"Fine." I mumbled unwillingly. Slowly, I stood back up and stalked over to a far side of the shop where we actually hadn't been to. There were old dresses, some of them new, some people just didn't want. I browsed lazily through the racks and found nothing. Just like I said. Hopeless. I was heading back towards Meg when I felt something slip under my feet. Before I could do anything, I had tripped and landed with a face plant on the hard carpet.

"What the-?" I muttered, rubbing my nose and sitting up, gazing back to the spot I had tripped.

Under a clothing rack, a large portion of a cream white fabric laid there, a footprint implanted on it thanks to me. I crawled over to it, still shaking slightly from my fall. Carefully, I pulled it from under the rack and laid it in my lap.

I gasped. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen! The main torso was made of cream white silk, decorated up the center with ribbons that made it seem like a corset. It turned into white lace at the sleeves and right in the middle of them, a cut went down, dividing them to show some of the wearer's arms. I ran my hands over the upper half, astounded. The lower half was also made of the same lace, and a cut up to the middle of it divided to show part of another layer of cream white silk beneath. It looked so Victorian…This was the one.

Trembling, I stood up, the dress in my hands.

"Meg!" I cried. "Meg, you have to see this dress!"

In what I swear was less than two seconds, Meg came rushing over to me, pulling up the bottom of her gown as if not to trip. She had an excited gleam in her eye.

"You finally found one?" She squealed happily, looking from me to the dress in my palms.

I nodded slowly, grinning.

"Well, go try it on!" She giggled.

I practically ran over to the dressing rooms, pulling my shoes off as I went. As soon as I was in one, I ripped my t-shirt and jeans off, slipping the dress on eagerly. It fell gracefully to the floor and trailed behind me, being as long as it was. I whirled around to look at myself in the mirror, and my mouth fell open.

I actually looked good in this dress! It was the perfect size, hugging my shape at every right place, showing off my slender waist and my legs. Happily, I turned around once more, admiring the back.

"Christine?" Meg called, "Are you ready?"

I smiled and walked out of the dressing room. Meg was digging for something in her purse, and I waited patiently for her to look. When she did, she dropped her lipgloss, spilling it onto the floor. I grinned.

"Too much?" I asked, turning around slowly for her to see the whole of its beauty.

Her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, but closed it and blinked, wide eyed.

A few moments passed without her opinion and the grin disappeared from my face. I gulped and let out a nervous laugh.

"Any time, now!" I said weakly, starting to regret my choice.

"What can I say, Christine? My God, that dress is beautiful on you!" She burst out finally.

I sighed with relief and grinned again.

"Good. Because either way, I was going to get it!" I teased playfully.

Meg stuck her tongue out at me and bent down to clean up the glossy mess that splattered the carpet.

She sighed while standing back up.

"No one appreciates my superior fashion sense anymore…Especially miss Olden-Aged Clothing over here…"

I elbowed her before going back into the dressing room and changing back into my regular clothes. When I came out, Meg was back in hers too, adjusting her hair that lay falling around her face in graceful bounces of pure blonde.

Folding up the dress carefully and laying it across my arm, we walked up to the cashier, talking of our soon to be college years.

"I hope I'll find the man of my dreams!" She said dreamily, paying the attendant.

"Yeah. Obviously the whole 'high school sweetheart' thing didn't work out exactly as we planned, huh?" I stated bitterly, taking the bag the man handed to me and heading for the door.

"I forgot all about our vows! You still remember those from four years ago?"

"Hmm. I really thought we'd find our men, too."

"But what about Raoul? He _is_ all you asked for, isn't he?"

"Well…Kind of. Not really. He's really sweet and all, but he isn't really my…Type, exactly."

"Type? You don't even have a 'type'!" Meg snorted with laughter, reaching the street corner.

I felt my face grow hot as I stood next to her.

"Well. Alright. Maybe he is the one." I stammered quickly, trying to cover up what I said.

"Christine Antoinette!" Meg warned.

"What?" I asked, choking slightly.

"Don't you go lying!"

"Lying? I am not lying!" I lied.

"Yes, you are! Don't deny it!" She planted her hands on her hips.

"I am not! How do you know for sure, hm?"

"You know as well as I do that the speed of talk you're using now is a sure fire sign that you're lying!" She said triumphantly.

She had caught me there. I tried desperately to slow my pace.

"Meg, I do love Raoul. I love everything about him. Why can't you believe me? Your best friend?" I said solemnly, my eyes wide with sadness. She could never resist those eyes, I knew it. It had worked for the past nine years and it wasn't about to fail me now.

"Well…I believe you. But I don't believe anything about those eyes." She sniggered.

Well. So much for using my secret weapon from now on.

At least she believed me. It really was true! I loved Raoul so much I thought I would kill him from suffocation. But I _did_ think he wasn't my type. When people saw us together, they really couldn't get used to it. He was incredibly wealthy and his head was always held up high, while I, on the other hand, wasn't the wealthiest person in the world nor had as much self confidence as him. It may sound a little bit shallow, but I knew it was true. And that's all that mattered. Right?

- - -

As usual, Raoul greeting me with a smile and a kiss. He pulled out my chair and gestured for me to sit down, a gleam of happiness in his eyes.

I nearly cried out at his cuteness. He was just like a puppy; following me around and loving me unconditionally. He even had the big, blue wide eyes to show it.

I sat down and picked up the menu off the table we sat at in a new corner café near the park. Examining the types of coffees they had, I peered out from behind the folder and watched him playfully as he tied his hair back in a ponytail with a dark blue satin ribbon. His honey blonde hair was abnormally long for a guy's, just a little past his shoulders with a bob at the end. But I loved it all the same.

He laughed as he spotted me and I grinned, ducking behind the menu. I saw his hand reach up and pry it away, and I gasped with fake surprise. His hands found mine and he leaned across the table to kiss me. A moment later I pulled away, my eyes flicking over to sniggering classmates of ours who were watching from the other side of the room. Raoul pulled a face at them and called a waitress over.

"Yes, I'd like the deluxe deli sandwich with a bowl of tomato soup, and a small coffee." He said, his eyes on the menu.

The waitress took out a pad and pencil and scribbled it onto the paper, then looked at me.

"The same, thanks." I replied and laid the menu down, staring fixedly on a speck of dust that had landed on my fingernail.

She nodded quickly and scurried over to the counter where she rang a bell and ripped off our sheet of paper, clipping it with a clothes pin to a string tied in the window that led to the kitchen. I smiled. I loved how different this café was. The other two in town were so high tech and busy that I barely went there anymore since Mum died, seeing how she hated both of them.

Raoul noticed my silence and glanced up from observing the menu.

"So, how was shopping with Meg? Not too tortuous, I hope." He smirked.

I grinned back and shook my head.

"Actually, it wasn't all that bad. I found a dress," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

It failed miserably. Raoul instantly perked up and smiled so wide I could have sworn it was going to fall off his face.

"Really? That's great! It's about time, too! Honestly, you women and your obsessions with looking good…"

I rolled my eyes and slapped him on his hand.

"Hey! Look who's talking!" I pointed at his hair and clothes, all extremely expensive. Well, his hair was his own, but what he paid to care for it was another story.

He donned a hurt look grabbed my hand, kissing it gently.

"But, of course, you would still look beautiful without the help." He nuzzled my hand with his cheek and put on his puppy-dog eyes. Even I couldn't resist his. I laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

"I don't know _how_ those eyes can work on me when I practically invented them!" I whined, putting on my biggest, watery eyes. Raoul cocked an eyebrow in amusement as I tried my best to get him to feel bad for me.

"Don't even think about it." He laughed, pulling me into another kiss. We were interrupted this time by the waitress who had timidly come up during our 'moment'. I giggled as I saw Raoul blush furiously. The waitress couldn't resist a chuckle and she placed our orders in front of us and scrambled over to another table with waiting customers.

Thirstily sipping my coffee, I looked around the room. My eyes widened and I sputtered, coffee flying everywhere.

Raoul blinked and wiped his face off with a napkin before rushing to my side.

"What's wrong? Are you alright? Do you need the Heimlich Maneuver?" He asked, the last sentence sounding a little hopeful. I looked at him dangerously and called him a pervert under my breath.

Shaking my head, I gestured to the window where I saw Carlotta Giordano standing outside with her posse, laughing about something and looking in at us like we were zoo animals.

My fists clenched and I felt my face getting warm. I started to stand up, but Raoul pushed me back into my seat.

After a few minutes of pure torture, Carlotta and her cronies left, but not without one last sneer at me. I knew she had been after Raoul for months, and she would never let me live it down that I had gotten to him first. I had always felt evilly happy when she saw me and Raoul together, whether it be holding hands or kissing. _Especially_ when we were kissing.

Raoul pat my hand worriedly and was about to sit back down when I stood up sharply.

"All of a sudden, I'm not hungry anymore." I muttered bitterly and stomped out the door, leaving Raoul in the café with a worried look on his face.

- **&** -

LYKOMG. I wonder which dress Christine got? ;D It isn't really the _exact_ same dress, just inspired by it. I'll save the actual dress for later, I suppose.

I know it's still pretty short, but I'm hoping they'll get longer eventually. Pray that Writer's Block is far away! Hm, and I hope my sentences don't seem too drawn out. Stupid commas. I can't get enough of them!

I send huge Erik plushies to my two reviewers so far, GoldenLyre and Shadow of the Phantom. You guys made my day! If anyone else reviews, they'll get one too! n-n;

Now, once again, let the magic begin!

**REVIEW!**


	3. Shape in the Shadows

**Disclaimer: **Agh, forget it. Everyone knows I don't own it already. Oh, and the great song **I May Hate Myself in the Morning** belongs to the lovely Le Ann Womack. n-n;

**IAR: **Happy 229th, America! (MAM-BOS) Hm, yeah. Don't ask. It's an inside thing between Dene and me. XP; I really don't have much to say, except this chapter is pretty much paragraphs. But, shockingly, there's absolutely no dialogue. Scary, no? o-0 And, I apologize for the cruddy page breaks. The regular lines won't work for me. Evil lines.

**Adriane Bassarid: **Thank you very much! And I'm absolutely open to suggestions, but yours is being followed in this chapter. That's right, rabid phangirls**. ERIK _HAS_ ARRIVED! **(trumpets sound and phangirls squeal)

Ohh, centered! Now I present to thy readers, Chapter 3!

**- & -**

After stopping by my house to find it empty (Dad had gone out for some air), I grabbed a small duffel bag that contained my dance clothes. I was going down to the local theater to attempt at dancing once again. Since Madame Giry was the dance instructor there, and she had no rehearsals today, she had allowed me to practice.

It would be my first time going there since it opened several months ago. I was excited as I approached the main door and fumbled with the keyring that Madame Giry had given me. Finally, after searching through what seemed like hundreds of keys, I found the right one and held it to my face, inspecting it. Just clutching that metal felt wonderful. To think, I'd actually be where I longed to be again. It was an engulfing feeling, but I took it head on.

Slowly, licking my dry lips, I put the key into the lock and turned it carefully. It clicked. I smiled. This was it…To be back in a theater again, even if there was no one around. It really didn't matter much at the time. I just wanted to be back. Back to where I was when Mum was alive.

I opened the large black glass doors and peered in to find nothing but darkness. Groping along the walls, I entered and tried to find a keyhole that Madame Giry had told me to put the same key in to turn on the lights. Finally, a small cold object came under my hands and I slipped the key in. I was instantly blinded.

After blinking several times to adjust to the newly found light, I looked around. I was in the main hall, it looked like. There was a grand staircase leading up to the second level before me, and everything was white or silver or gold. It truly was amazing. But instead of heading upwards towards the theater just yet, I went off to the side to find the electric closet and flipped the switches for the lights in the theater. Now I was ready.

So, quickly, I sprinted to another door that lead to the lower half of the theater and stopped._ Well, here goes everything_, I thought. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stepped inside to another world where I felt alive. My mouth fell open and my bag fell to the floor as I looked around.

Over my head was a huge dome, painted beautifully with nude angels of all shapes, sizes, colors and the fluffiest clouds I had ever seen. The angels seemed to be relaxing, singing and playing instruments, some in dramatic poses, proving they were acting. They were all on the clouds, which were wrapped in the softest blue sky I had ever seen. The dome was held up by what seemed to be pure gold beams that held a row of lights in each of them, and they led to the main centerpiece.

A humungous crystal chandelier, as big, or bigger, than my living room hung there, swaying gently with the breeze I had just let in. I shivered slightly. If a fly landed on it, it was sure to plunge down on the helpless velvet covered seats below, crushing anyone who sat there.

I spun around slowly, trying to see it in all different directions. It all looked an equal amount of beautiful to me. I frowned to myself. How Mum would have loved to see this!

Still distracted by the ceiling, I walked forward only to stumble on something rather large. Glancing down from my entranced state, I saw a rolled up red carpet lying at my feet. I bent down to examine it, only to feel like someone was watching me. Quickly, I returned to full height and glared around, trying to find the source of my discomfort. No one was there. Shrugging, I returned to inspecting the carpet.

Deep scarlet in color and soft as silk, the carpet seemed to be just like the one I had seen not too long ago while watching an award show on T.V. I ran my fingertips over it, shuddering. Dust came off onto my fingers, and I placed my whole right hand on the fabric and giggled when I lifted it off to find my handprint there surrounded by filth.

_Well_, I thought to myself, _I'd be doing the janitors a favor if I clean the whole thing_.

So, gently, I started swiping off the dust with both of my hands, wiping them on my t-shirt every once in a while. After finishing the whole thing, I stood back up and smiled at my handiwork. The carpet was mostly restored to its natural beauty.

Carefully stepping over the roll, I strode down the right aisle that separated the seats that led to the orchestra pit and then to the stage. I scrambled down into the pit and ran my hands over the music stands that seemed to be gathering dust as well, since the last show hadn't been for a month. Some of the other instruments had been left there, and just for a laugh, I decided to pick up a spare violin and play a few notes onstage. It actually produced a sweet sound, and I found myself playing and singing along to a song that I had grown to love.

_Ain't it just like one of us__  
To pick up the phone and call after a couple drinks__  
Say how you been I've been wondering if maybe you've been thinking 'bout me__  
And somewhere in the conversation__  
An ole familiar invitation always arrives__  
I may hate myself in the morning__  
But I'm gonna love you tonight._

I stopped with my mouth still wide open from holding out the last note. Mostly from being awestruck. I hadn't sung in so long. The word 'tonight' still rang in my ears and throughout the theater, bouncing off gold nude women statues that were on every column that held up the upper levels. My mouth opened and closed several times before I came to my senses and placed the violin gently back in its place in the orchestra pit.

Backing away from the edge of the stage, I gazed around once more. Whoever designed this theater must have been a genius. Gold was everywhere I turned, and the red velvet seemed to wrap around me tightly. As I looked the private boxes up and down, in Box 5, I thought I saw a brief flash of white. Shrugging it off, I sighed happily, picked up my duffel bag that I had lain down earlier, and exited the stage in search of a dressing room.

- - -

The shadow of a man peered over the edge of the banister that separated him and the seats below the box he sat in. He watched silently as a beautiful teenaged girl had performed an unfamiliar piece of music with such skill and ease on his stage. She sang like an angel- no, she _was_ an angel! In every way, she was perfect. His eyes were wide open in awe at how exquisite her body was. He traced over it and its curves repeatedly, not feeling any guilt at all. Her hair was beautiful, laid over her shoulders in gentle chocolate curls. Her eyes were deep brown and soft exactly like a doe's. And her skin, so smooth like a porcelain doll's…

The man, on instinct, ran a hand over the left side of face. Smooth and warm, just like a normal person's. But what the other side held was too horrid for human eyes. Especially for that gorgeous girl trespassing in his theater. He knew he should do something about it. But he couldn't. He couldn't let her get anywhere near him, so as to protect herself from the terrible monster he truly was.

Standing up, with a swirl of his cloak, he left the box to get a better look at the girl.

- - -

I returned a few minutes later to the stage, in just a tank top and some old gym shorts. My actual dance clothes- Well. I had no idea where they were, so this would have to do.

Hastily taking a small boom box from my duffel bag, I walked over to center stage. I slipped a CD in and was off.

It was a pleasant tune, something you'd hear as if watching pixies frolicking through a green meadow. But, all I honestly knew is that it came from an opera my mum and dad enjoyed. They used to play it when I was a small child to help calm me down. I smiled contentedly as I started to move with the music. It felt wonderful to stretch out in this way after so many years.

Gracefully, I spun and leapt across the stage until the music ended. Panting, I sat down where I was, brought my knees to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. I buried my head in my hands and let out a small sob. That music had reminded me so much of Mum… I hadn't listened to it in years, and suddenly I decided to dance to it in a place I had never been to before? And on the anniversary of her death, no less. I cursed under my breath and let more tears run down my cheeks.

- - -

The man watched as the girl danced about the stage. His breath caught in his throat when the music came on. _Music of an opera you composed_… Cackled a small voice in the back of his mind.

Enraged, he stood up quickly from his seat near the front of the theater. How could she have played such damned music when she was an angel? An angel didn't need to hear such disgraceful tunes! Sliding among the row of chairs hastily to get into the center aisle, he looked back at the girl quickly. She was still dancing. Dancing to his music. Dancing to the music that made people flee after the opening night. To the music that had made him famous, but hated beyond belief.

He stopped abruptly and sank back into another chair, bewildered. How could she still be smiling? Didn't she know of that day?

_Of course not_, he cursed to himself, _she's too young to know._ Too young to know of what really happened. Too young to even know who he was…

Only Madame Giry and his 'friend' Nadir knew who he really was. He took to hiring younger servants so they would not run in fear at the sight of him. Though he could tell most of them felt uneasy around him, always scurrying in quickly, delivering his tea, and running back out, not even daring to look him in the eye.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of whimpering. He looked towards the stage where the girl sat, sobbing into her legs. Eyes widening with concern, he stood up and crept towards the stage in the shadows.

- - -

I had to get out of here. This horrid place that hypnotized me to do the thing I'd dreaded on doing for so long. Standing up quickly and staggering to my bag, I froze as I heard a soft sound from the back of the theater. No, wait. It was coming from above! No, behind me! No, below me! I spun around frantically trying to decide what it was and where it was coming from. Then realization hit.

Someone was clapping.

- - -

He couldn't stop his hands. They had started on their own, and now they wouldn't stop.

His legs seemed to be possessed as well. They were walking forward when he didn't want them to, but deep in his soul he was secretly excited. He was getting so close to that beautiful girl. So close he could already sense her fear. With a look of despair crossing over his face, he stopped walking but kept clapping. She couldn't see him, he knew it. His black clothing blended too well into the shadows.

He didn't want her to fear him. But then again, most people did. Why should she be any different?

- - -

Backing up slowly and gulping, I fell on my back onto the hard wood of the stage. Blinking, I stared up at the rafters above. I sat up and scooted back into the scenery until I couldn't go any farther, but the clapping increased and began engulfing me. I felt myself fainting, everything going black. But before I faded off, I saw a flash of white above my head and then everything disappeared into darkness.

- **&** -

I wonder what Erik did to get so hated by the theater community? Ah, but that is for me to know and you to _maybe_ find out. ;D

Before you attempt killing me, I should let you know that Christine has letting go issues that Erik will help get rid of before the end of this story. That's why she's always thinking back to her mother. And, it's _still_ the anniversary of her death, just to let you know. She's trying to forget and move on, but you can see it isn't going too well. I'm being so mean to poor Chrissy, aren't I? n-n;

Eh, I'm not all that happy with this chapter. Hm, and I don't really know if you'd consider this a cliffie, but whatever. That's up to you guys, I suppose. Thanks to Adriane Bassarid for reviewing, and thou shalt get thy giant Erik plushie as promised. :D Now, it is time for you lurker readers to follow her example. Tell me what you think and **_REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! _**I don't care if you have questions, comments…Just **_REVIEW_.**


	4. He's There Inside my Mind

Ack. I am _really_ sorry for not updating sooner. I was feeling really bleh the last couple days. / But, I'm getting Journey of the Mask by Nancy Hill Pettengill.:D Barnes and Noble rocks. ANDANDAND, I'm getting the The Phantom of the Opera Companion! EEEEEEEEE! Be excited for me! XD; But I have to wait FOUR BUSINESS DAYS. Argh. Life is cruel. And, if you haven't read The Phantom of Manhattan by Frederick Forsyth, I suggest you do. I think it's a great book. Not exactly what I pictured for the sequel to PotO entirely, but it's a sequel to the musical, so I guess I'll live.

Now, below is an incredibly important set of instructions that you **_MUST_** follow once you finish this chapter. And, no, it's not optional. n-n;

**1: Read this chapter.  
****2: Scroll down if you aren't at the bottom of the page already.  
****3: Find the little button that says 'Go' without changing what's in the option box.  
****4: Now, type in the box either:  
****A) A REALLY, REALLY flattering compliment.  
****B) A logical suggestion.  
****C) Both.  
****5: Now, check any of the boxes that are below that. (Optional)  
****6: Click the button that says 'Submit Review'.**

There! Now you've successfully given me a review! n-n

**Shadow of the Phantom: **Thanks! And, I'm not really a cookie person. But, if you have Oreos…;D

**Broken-Mask: **Yes, you do. Since you STOLE the other plushie, you little thief. And, yes, you CANCANCANCAN write better than me. XD

**Ariadne Bassarid: **Actually, I've seen what I've done in books sometimes. Thanks for the suggestion, but I think it's clear enough for everyone to understand. :) And, like I said before, I'm completely open to suggestions. n-n

**Hearts Aflame: **Thanks so much. :D

Now, onto ze Chapter 4!

**- & -**

"_MUM!" I screamed, watching my mother fall into a bottomless pit, "Mum! Come back! No!"_

_I raced over to the pit and sobbed into it, not being able to see my mother's mangled body at the bottom. _

"_Christine..." I heard someone call, but I didn't bother to look up from my pitiful state. They called out again._

_Weeping quietly, I peered up from the dark, empty hole to see a man dressed completely in black with slick jet-black hair standing across from it, wearing a pure white porcelain mask over the right side of his face. His stunning turquoise eyes were sharp, but within them they held love and comfort._

_He stepped forward slowly, and I gasped when he started walking right over the pit. Soon he was right in front of me, holding outstretched arms, which I ran straight into, my head leaning into his warm bare chest._

_He started stroking my hair gently. I still didn't lessen my weeping, so he started singing softly:_

_Wandering child, so lost,_

_So helpless!_

_Yearning for my guidance…_

_I am here for you now,_

_If by chance _

_I am your strange Angel..._

I moaned at the aching I felt all over, especially in my head. I tried to sit up, but something forced me back down. My eyes fluttered open and I was gazed up at darkness.

"Wha-?" I muttered, trying to blink away the dark. It wouldn't go away. I panicked.

"I'm blind!" I shrieked, terrified, struggling under a weight that held me down. It lifted suddenly and I felt flat.

I could hear chuckling coming from another part of wherever I was. What was so funny about being blind?

"You are not blind, my dear. The room is just darkened. There is no need to scream," came a dangerously mysterious man's voice from the far corner of the room. It was beautiful all the same, and I desperately wanted to hear it again.

I blinked and felt my face getting hot.

"Right…I knew that. Of course." I said, scoffing.

"Of course you did." The voice said solemnly. I bit my lower lip, hoping I hadn't angered it in any way.

Pain stung at the back of my head, and I whimpered. Quick footsteps approached, and I held my breath as I felt something hovering over my body. Something lifted my head up and placed it back down. I shivered as I felt something cold and wet touch my neck.

That was when I realized the room was already freezing. It had to be at least fifty degrees, and I hugged myself tightly, rubbing my upper arms.

"Wh-where am I?" I asked, stuttering mostly from fear than frostbite.

"Still in the theater that you wrongly trespassed in," came the reply coldly.

"I didn't trespass! I had a key!" I protested angrily.

"Exactly where did you get the key from?"

"A woman that works here."

"Which woman?"

"Amelia Giry, the dance instructor."

"I should I have guessed. However, you still had no permission to be in my theater during off-hours."

"_Your_ theater?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Yes,_ my_ theater. I own it."

"You…Own it?"

"Isn't that what I just stated?" Even though it was dark, I could sense whoever was speaking sneer. I hope they did't see me blush.

"Show yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"I want to see you." I said firmly. I heard a sigh coming from the far end of the room, and a click. A bright light flickered on, and I had to shield my eyes. Trying to clear my sight, I turned my head to where the voice was coming from to see the man that was in my dream. I gasped and choked with shock while trying to sit up. He rushed over to me and laid me back down.

"Y-you…" I stuttered, looking up into his cold eyes, nothing like I had seen in my dream.

"There. You see me. Are you satisfied?" He asked sharply. I had finally managed to sit up, and I turned my head down.

"Not entirely. What is your name?"

"You can refer to me as Mr. Devereux." He said, turning around and heading for the door.

"Well, _Mr. Devereux_, could you at least tell me what time it is?"

He peered over his shoulder at me from the doorway.

"It is ten o'clock. You've been asleep for more than six hours."

My mouth fell open.

"Six hours! My dad is going to _kill_ me when I get home! I need to go!" I cried frantically, stumbling out of the bed I was in. A smirk of amusement came over the man's face, and I felt like I had to prove I could handle myself. After only walking a few steps, I felt myself falling backwards. Mr. Devereux came rushing over from the doorway and caught me in his arms.

"You're not going anywhere in the condition you're in." He stated firmly, carrying me back to the bed in his arms. I protested and struggled to break free, but I finally gave in and fell limp, letting him place me gently on the bed.

"I've already called your father. He said it's best for you to stay here for the night." Mr. Devereux told me while kneeling down and propping my head up on multiple pillows.

"Er, thanks, I guess." I said, confused. "But, how did you-?"

"There _is_ something called a driver's license and a telephone book that can be quite useful in times like this," he said with what I swore was a tiny bit of amusement in his voice. I glared into his eyes. _God, he's gorgeous!_ I thought, feeling faint again.

"Well, that's not what I was going to ask. How did you even know I was here?" I said slowly.

His face flushed with embarrassment as he turned away and I gasped softly.

"You were the one who was clapping, weren't you?" I whispered, lowering my head and gaze from him.

His hand cupped my chin and brought my face to his. He looked deep into my eyes with the breathtaking ones he had.

"Why shouldn't I have clapped for such talent?" He whispered into my ear, making my skin tingle with excitement.

My eyes fluttered closed as I felt his breath seeping into my ear, over my cheek, and onto my lips. I shivered and opened my eyes as he stood up, walking towards the door once more.

"Your dinner is already prepared for you. It's in the kitchen, just down the hall and the last door on your left. A nightgown is in the wardrobe in case you would like to change before going back to sleep." Mr. Devereux stepped out of the door and disappeared from my sight.

- - -

Three hours later, I crept from the room wearing the nightgown Mr. Devereux lent me. It was very comfortable, made with lavender silk, and fit me perfectly. Of course, it didn't really help with the freezing temperature of the room, but I didn't mind much.

Walking slowly along the dimly lit hallway, I took in the scenery. Candles were the only source of lighting, and there were few of them. They were on tall and short golden candelabras, dripping wax over their holders. I winced in pain as one of my bare feet stepped on a freshly fallen drip of hot wax, but I resisted the urge to make a sound.

Paintings also hung on the rich brown walls. Some were of people, others of animals; some were even of performances. I examined one of these closer and noticed that it was an opera.

A Spanish woman was standing center stage, holding what looked to be a decapitated head that was drizzling blood. She was dressed in a strange outfit: a golden bodice with a blood red skirt that had a golden ivy design at the hem. Her upper arms were dabbed with gold glitter, and a kind of golden crown sat on her head, tall red and gold feathers sprouting from the top. She also had what I guessed was golden netting running down part of her right arm, and it connected to a cape that was a deep royal blue and ended at her wrist.

I smirked to myself. Whoever painted this clearly had eccentric tastes.

Moving on, I saw more peculiar paintings. Some of them were beautiful, some of them hideous, and some of them just plain odd. Finally, after seeing so many of them that my head started to spin, I reached the last door on the left. Carefully and as quietly as I could, I pushed it open and stepped inside a gourmet kitchen. It seemed a little out dated, but I didn't care. I glanced around until I found my meal on the center counter.

It consisted of cold chicken (due to my wait), a fresh salad, a couple of sesame seed breadsticks, and a wine glass filled with water. I picked up the plate carefully and sat down over at the small table. It held only one lit candle smack dab in the center. Cautiously, I began to nibble at the chicken. I knew it wasn't poisoned, but you can never be too sure. Suddenly I realized how hungry I was and began to gnaw away at it fiercely. I thought I heard a creaking noise coming from the direction of the door, but I ignored it and continued to eat greedily. Ten minutes later, I heard the same noise, but I looked up to see nothing.

After fifteen minutes, I had finished every last thing on the plate. I wasn't full, but it would have to do. Clearing away my place at the table, I walked over to the sink and began to wash the dishes. There wasn't a dishwasher, sadly, so I was on my own. When I finished, I head back over to the door and was about to leave when I saw something flutter to the ground from the center counter where the plate was before.

_That wasn't there earlier_, I thought uneasily.

I tip toed over and picked it up with care. It was a piece of parchment. I nearly laughed aloud. Parchment? I wondered if whoever put it there had ever heard of a thing called notebook paper. Still trying to hold back a giggle, I turned it over to see beautiful blood red handwriting. Moving closer to the candlelight, I read what it said.

_Dear Miss Daaé,_

_I see you found your way to the kitchen. Congratulations. As I mentioned earlier, your meal is here. I hope you found it to your liking. It took me quite a while to figure out how to cook the chicken. Who knew that a microwave and an oven weren't the same thing?_

_If you would like, there is a slice of pumpkin pie over on the other end of the table. I brought it to you earlier while you were eating. I never knew someone who could eat as fast as yourself, or with such concentration. There is also a small container of whipped cream in the cabinet below this letter._

_Sweet dreams, my dear._

_-Mr. Devereux_

I stared at the note with my mouth open in astonishment. It had been him making the creaking noise earlier! Sure enough, when I looked over to the other end of the table, a small plate sat there with a slice of pumpkin pie resting on top. Shaking, I bent down and opened the cabinet below the counter, took out the container of whipped cream, and sat down at the table with a fork.

While eating, I read the letter over and over again. I blushed furiously at the part where he mentioned how fast and concentrated I ate. It caused me to slow down and take slower bites with fewer portions. And I kept rereading the closing. _Sweet dreams, my dear. _My dear? He had called me that earlier, I remembered, but it felt creepier to see it in writing.

I thought about how he had come in and placed the pumpkin pie at the table. The creaking noises were about ten minutes apart. My heart leapt. _He had been watching me for ten minutes_. I suddenly felt guilty. What if he hadn't eaten? Grabbing my plate and the container, I rushed over to the refrigerator and opened it, searching through the food inside. There wasn't much, just some greenish looking chicken and what looked like grimy coleslaw. That made me feel even guiltier. He had given me the rest of his good food.

Sighing, I slumped back into the counter and placed the dishes into the sink to wash them. I jumped when I heard the grandfather clock on the other end of the room strike two o'clock, bumping into the counter and opening one of the drawers. Another piece of parchment fell out, and I picked it up eagerly.

_Dear Miss Daaé,_

_Don't even think about washing the dishes. I will not have you do anything of the sort while you are a guest in my household._

_-Mr. Devereux_

I grinned and ran out of the kitchen, clutching both letters. He didn't have to tell me twice.

- **& **-

I had fun writing this chapter. Poor Erik and his lack of modern technology knowledge. D:

Now. You read my instructions, yes? You _are_ going to follow them, right? I thought so. Because I have over 200 hits and I _know_ they aren't from me. ;D Just so you know what to do, I'll put them here again.

**1: Read this chapter.  
****2: Scroll down if you aren't at the bottom of the page already.  
****3: Find the little button that says 'Go' without changing what's in the option box.  
****4: Now, type in the box either:  
****A) A REALLY, REALLY flattering compliment.  
****B) A logical suggestion.  
****C) Both.  
****5: Now, check any of the boxes that are below that. (Optional)  
****6: Click the button that says 'Submit Review'.**

Notice how they're in **BOLD** PRINT. n-n;;

**_REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!_**


	5. Two Surprise Visitors

**IAR: **Agh, incredibly sorry for not updating sooner. I've been having troubles lately with friends and stuff, so it's kept me preoccupied. Don't worry; we're all keen and peachy now, so this story will go on. :D

Wow. I mean. WOW. Holy crap. I got a flood of reviews! XD I want to thank ALL of you for reviewing. And, yes, everyone shalt get their plushies as promised, but they have to review again to ask for the style. :D They come in three different styles: White-Ruffly Shirt Goodness, Red Death Hotness, and Don Juan Mystery.

And. Lykomg. I have to give a big shout-out to mah partner in crime, Dene, who practically betas this for me, and help me cut down on my Author's Notes. Much love!

Meh. Too many reviews to answer. So let's just get on with the chapter, hmm?

**Note:** There are more weird POV switching and flashbacks in this chapter, so don't review about it, 'kay? I know what I'm doing. n-n Oh, and no one was my beta for this chapter, and I proofread terribly, so excuse any horrible grammar, please. XP

**- & -**

"Christine? Christine, are you here?" Meg called out fearfully, tiptoeing into the theater with her keys jingling at her side.

She didn't know why she was frightened; she practically lived there! She spent most of her time practicing with her mother, and her mum was always there. Ever since the opening day, Meg had grown to love it, even if she had never met the owner. Amelia Giry was on speaking terms with him as far as she knew, so hopefully she was welcomed during the off-hours. Especially at five o'clock in the morning.

- - -

_What a little twit,_ Mr. Devereux thought with a sneer as he watched from the balcony above the doorway as a petite blonde he knew as Meg Giry crept into his theater,_ thinking she can get away with it. Trespassers can easily be taken care of…_

His thoughts wandered back to Christine. He remembered spying as she walked in, when she tripped over the carpet, giggled when she saw her handprint in the thick dust, her grace while she danced along the stage, the pure sweet nectar that was her voice rang in his ears. When she fainted as he knelt over her…

- - -

After she had passed out, his hand roamed freely about her face. His eyes were wide open with shock and desire at how beautiful she was. He traced over her features slowly, going over her eyelids that were covered in a light coat of black eye shadow, the cheeks that were porcelain but flushed from hearing his clapping, and the chin that was rounded perfectly. But his hand froze as it touched her lips. Her breathing was slow and steady, wrapping his gloved fingers in pleasurable warmth.

Coming to his senses, his hand left her face but trailed down her neck and stopped at a gold chain that hung around it. It was being pulled down by a charm of some sort that was hidden away under the light shirt she was wearing. Hesitantly, he tugged on the chain and a heart shaped locket emerged from under the fabric, and he fiddled with it until it opened.

There were two pictures inside- one of a beautiful woman a few years older than him that seemed almost identical to the girl that wore the trinket, and the other of a handsome young man that held love and adoration in his eyes. Mr. Devereux's eyes turned into dangerous slits, and he spat a curse at the boy under his breath for his good looks.

Turning back to the woman's picture, he realized that she and the girl could have been twins if it hadn't been for the eyes. The girl's, he had noticed earlier, were so dark of a brown that you could barely notice the pupils; however, on the other hand, the woman's were lighter and more playful. He still had no idea who the woman could be, so he shut the locket and placed it gently back on her upper chest.

As the girl felt a cold, hard substance touch her skin, she moaned and shifted slightly. He stood quickly and froze; eyes wide open again with fear. Suddenly she stopped and smiled contentedly in her unconscious state, starting to breath evenly again.

He still stood over her and wondered what he should do. It wouldn't be necessary to call an ambulance, he was sure, since she only fainted. Sighing nervously, he knelt down and did what he thought was best. He gently snaked his arms under her back and lifted her, which was rather easy, to his delight. But he couldn't suppress a shiver at the feeling of her smooth skin resting against his rough arms after he had rolled up the sleeves of his white silken shirt.

A thought crossed his mind. Why could he feel her skin when she was wearing a top? Still kneeling down, he gently turned her over to see that the back of the shirt she was wearing had ripped after she had backed up into a sharp piece of scenery. His eyes widened at the sight of her flawless skin, and without warning, one of his arms shot from beneath her and laid its gloved hand in the center.

Blinking with fascination, he slithered one of his fingers along her back several times. Again, the girl shifted and moaned with what seemed like pleasure. Mr. Devereux licked his dry lips and gently turned her back over, cradled her in his arms again, stood up slowly, and started towards backstage.

"Erik?"

His hold on the girl tightening, he halted and stood still as he heard footsteps coming towards him.

"Erik Devereux! How long has it been? Eight years?"

Erik answered through clenched teeth, "Obviously not long enough, Daroga."

A hearty laugh echoed throughout the theater and he winced slightly, not turning around.

"What are you doing here, Khan? After I strictly told you never to contact me again? Especially while I'm attending to someone else's needs." Erik said coolly while turning slightly so the other man couldn't see the load he was holding. That seemed to put the guest in awe.

"Someone else's needs? And who is this 'someone' that you speak of, Erik?" He asked curiously, a smirk playing across his face.

Erik's eyes closed in exasperation and annoyance as he replied, "Someone that would be certainly glad to be rid of you if they were conscious, I'm sure."

"Oh, really? Is that so? Well, I'm sure that this 'someone' is here in the theater with you, are they not?" The Daroga asked innocently enough, peering around in mock searching.

Erik sighed with frustration as he realized the man wouldn't give up. He whirled around so quickly the girl's arms flailed in the air.

His eyes fell on a man that was grinning madly with perfectly aligned white teeth which contrasted immensely with his rich burnt sienna skin tone. He was a few inches shorter than Erik, but incredibly slender with pitch black slicked back hair. Dressed in dress clothes, Erik laughed to himself on the drastic change of wardrobe from his usual robe like attire with a violet turban to this.

"And what do I owe to such an…unpleasant surprise visitor?" Erik asked airily, trying to ignore the fact that he held a knocked out teenaged girl in his arms.

Nadir Khan's eyes widened at the limp, pale form in his friend's arms. He looked from her to Erik and back again several times before answering the question:

"In town. Just wanted to drop by and say hello. Heard from Amelia that you were down here-"his hand waved amiably in the air so as to gesture the theater-"and decided to see how my old college buddy was doing!"

Erik sneered at the excuse.

"I should've known she would have told you. I can't get any trust from anyone anymore, can I?" He said angrily. Nadir blinked and his eyes fell on the girl.

"And she is-?"

"That 'someone' I told you about!" Erik spat fiercely.

Nadir, still being more than ten feet away from him, walked forward slowly and circled the two, rubbing his chin in consideration.

Erik rolled his eyes and stood still, waiting for the right moment to drop the girl and pounce on the unsuspecting victim with his lasso.

"How exactly did she faint?" The vulture man asked, stopping at Erik's left side where her head lay over his arm.

His eyes darted to the investigating Daroga who was now feeling the girl's wrist for a pulse.

"What, do you think I hit her over the head with a prop?" He shot back, eyes still glued to him.

"It's a possibility." Nadir shrugged, dropping her wrist and circling the man and girl again.

Erik gaped at him and nearly dropped the girl, about to snatch his Punjab from the depths of his cloak.

"No need to get hasty, Devereux," he stuttered, holding his hands up in surrender at the sight of the hate in the man's eyes, "I'm just trying to figure out what happened."

But his eyes didn't soften and Nadir chuckled nervously, pulling at his collar.

"Have it your way then, Daroga," Erik said sarcastically and began to advance on the man, the girl still in his arms.

The Daroga backed up slowly until he reached the edge of the stage where the orchestra pit began a few feet below.

An evil smirk crossed Erik's face as Nadir stumbled and found balance again, teetering on the edge.

Satisfied, Erik began to explain.

"…I started clapping for her, and she started searching for where it was coming from. She became overwhelmed, fell back, backed into the scenery, and fainted as I stood over her," he finished nonchalantly, eyeing Nadir the whole time, who was stroking his chin again in thought.

"And the ripped shirt?" He asked, glancing down at the girl's shoulder where the sleeves of her top were falling down.

"Torn by the scenery," Erik replied, also chancing a look at the angel that lay in his arms, still unconscious.

"I see…" Nadir said, seeming convinced. Erik's hand still twitched for his lasso, but he controlled his temper.

Awkward silence filtered between them until the Daroga finally said, "I guess I should be heading back to the hotel. Be sure to get her home safely, alright?"

Nodding absently, Erik watched as Nadir walked quickly off the stage and out of the theater, looking back only once before walking out the doors.

His eyes found their way back to the figure in his arms again.

"Now, who exactly are you? An angel? A goddess?" He whispered down at her, brushing a few fallen locks of brown hair from her face.

Gently placing her back on the stage, he searched for a wallet. Admittedly, he searched her incredibly slowly so as to savor the touches. To his dismay, it wasn't on her. He stood up and glanced around desperately. His eyes fell on a bright red bag that sat on the far end of the stage. He walked over, picked it up, and strode back to the figure again and began looking.

After a few minutes, he discovered a leather wallet at the bottom of the bag and opened it. It didn't hold much; a library card, about fifty dollars in cash, a debit card…He pulled out the last card and smiled to himself. The girl was looking up at him and grinning widely in her driver's license photo. Scanning the card, he found her name.

"Christine Daaé…" Erik whispered softly, gazing down at the beauty before him.

She stirred and grunted at the sound of her name. Frantically, Erik picked her up again and ran backstage to the hidden staircase that led to the two levels of housing that were below the theater and cellars.

And, for once, he felt excited that he was to have company.

- - -

Erik sighed from his spot on the balcony. The girl had been searching for more than fifteen minutes and every attempt failed. She let out a scream of exasperation and plopped down in one of the front seats, burying her head in her hands. He couldn't help but smirk in amusement.

Standing up, he stalked out of the door and hesitated at the curtain that he usually climbed down to the floor. Someone was crying.

- - -

Meg sobbed into her hands desperately. Where was Christine? She had searched behind props, under them, in the orchestra, the boxes. It was useless.

"Christine Antoinette Daaé! Get out here right now or I swear I'll never talk to you again!" She cried, looking up for a brief moment from her hands. No answer.

Falling forward out of her chair, Meg resumed her sobbing on the lush carpet. Her head shot up instantly when she heard a low, beautiful male voice booming, "Your friend is safe. There is no need for bawling, Miss Giry."

Shaking, she stood and gazed around the giant theater, trying to locate the owner of the voice.

"W-who are you? And where's Christine?" She demanded fiercely, sounding braver then she felt.

A loud chuckle erupted throughout the room.

"To some, a man. But to most…" the voice trailed off. Meg cleared her throat and spoke up again.

"But to most…what?" she asked, curiosity flooding her mind.

Sighing sadly, the voice replied, "To others…I am nothing but a monster in Hell."

Meg blinked as the atmosphere changed and the room felt empty.

"Hello? Where is Christine?" She cried angrily.

Silence.

Crying out in frustration, Meg stormed over to the front doors and swung them open easily. Taking one look back, she left in a rush of tears and screams, still calling out to Christine.

**- & -**

Okay. Well. That's chapter five for you. Hehe, thought it would be Madame Giry calling for Erik, didn't you? I'm tricky. :D And I know Erik seems a bit perverted in this chapter, but he's just fascinated, because he had never been that close to a woman before. 'Kay? 'Kay. n-n;;

Damn Writer's Block. The next chapter probably won't be up for a while…Sorry, guys. / But feel free to review with ideas for it!

You know what to do! **Review!**


	6. New Desires

**IAR:** My muse magically returned! Huzzah! Yes, yes. You are all so very thrilled, I'm sure. XP;;

And, here's something I wrote off the top of my head for an icon on Livejournal:

_**The Phantom of the Opera in 30 Seconds**_

Once upon a time, there was a man who fell for a pwetty girl. He thought it was twue wuv. Apparently it wasn't since she decided to buy hair gel for some fop instead of aloe lotion for the poor man's sun burnt face. He died alone. And un-aloed. Sob.

**TEH END.**

Teehee. n-n;;

Tink20: Hehe, poor Erik and his perverted ways. I just always pictured him doing that for some reason. I always thought it was actually rather romantic, but I'm a psychotic killer witch maid, so it's just my way. XD And here's your plushie! Since you didn't specify, I'll give you White-Ruffly Shirt Goodness.

Dove of Night: To tell you the truth, so would I. o0;; But it kind of just fits into Erik's personality, methinks. Nadir is awesome, though, so I couldn't let him fall in. Dene loves him, so I'm being a good best friend and keeping him from getting injured…for now. (maniacal laughter) Here is your plushie, Don Juan Mystery!

A Phantom Moon: You can have Leroux!Nadir. Because Kay!Nadir is Dene's. And there will be no humping of air allowed here, missy. This is a clean-ish phic, thank you. ;D And I don't know if Nadir wears a turban or an astrakhan cap. I haven't read the original in a while, and I haven't read Phantom. Ever. Maybe I will consider making a Nadir plushie variety pack. Thanks for the idea! And no other plushie for you!

Midnight Tango: Eee, thanks! (hands over zee plushie)

Satinzevi89: Thanks! (plusheh time!)

Enchanting Angel: Hehe, thanketh! And, NUH-UH, no other two plushies for you! (grabs them and leaves you with a Red Death Hotness)

Broken-Mask: I luv you. And, nooooes, you can't have all three. You can have Don Juan Mystery, then. :D

Twinkle22: Yay, thanks! (hands over a White-Ruffly Shirt Goodness plushie)

Whiterose55: I was wondering when someone would ask that. XP He's thirteen years older. Christine's seventeen, Erik's thirty. n-n (gives you a Don Juan Mystery)

forbiddenlight: OMGZHICOURTNEY! (WAVES)

Now, onto zee Chapter Six! (Which hasn't been corrected so give me a break. XD)

- **& **-

It was truly amazing, the effect this girl he didn't even know was having on him. Suddenly, new desires had started a fire inside of him. Desires he only dreamt of while reading a romance novel.

Erik was pacing in his bedroom irritably. It was seven o'clock in the morning now, and Christine still hadn't woken. He wasn't surprised, really. Many people would have thought that little Giry's wails would surely awaken the dead. But he lived far below the theater, below the three cellars, so he had the comfort of a soundproof home. This allowed him to play his organ without interruption from any rehearsal or performance going on above.

He stopped in place for a moment and glared at the drapes over his four poster bed. In his mind, he kept replaying memories from just hours before. He had watched Christine come out of her bedroom- no, no! It wasn't _her_ bedroom. She wasn't living there! –and travel down the hallway. His breath caught in his chest at the site of her in the nightgown that he had offered. He observed how gracefully and cautiously she walked, and how her hips swung very slightly as she did, as if trying to drive him mad…

Appalled at himself, Erik shook his head rapidly to clear his thoughts. Thinking of dreams that he had for ten years involving a seventeen year old girl would surely be the end of him. But it was hard to concentrate when he knew she was right next door to his own room. Maybe he could…? No. He couldn't take advantage of it. But, then again…

There was a two way mirror between the rooms, and in between was a small passageway he could stand in to keep watch over her. All he needed to do to reveal himself was light a torch that was mounted on the wall. He crept over to the hidden door and pulled the right book from the bookcase standing next to it. The door swung open and he slinked inside. He peered through the mirror and let out a small sigh as he saw her still sleeping. For a few minutes, he stared longingly at her form, thinking of what could be…

- - -

I woke up in a cold sweat. I had that dream again. The dream with that man, Mr. Devereux. It seemed like such a short one, but when I woke, it was already three hours after I had first fallen asleep. Sitting up, I glanced down at the nightgown. It was clinging to me like a second skin. I couldn't help but giggle at how interesting it looked. But as I shifted a little to the side, I felt how uncomfortable it was making me.

_Maybe he has other ones in the wardrobe?_ I asked myself. _Probably not, since I don't think he has a wife or any female friends over often._ I sighed and swung my legs over the side of the bed. At least I could move around a bit to dry myself a little.

Carefully and quietly, I crept over to the closet and opened the doors. One creaked and I tensed. Did anyone hear that? After a moment of silence I loosened up and began to look around inside. There was nothing in there but old, dusty coats and dress clothes. A bright white piece of material caught my eye and I kneeled down to see what it was. Surprisingly, it was the only thing that was clean. I pulled it out of its place and held it up to me. It was a large white ruffled shirt that went down a little past the middle of my thighs and the sleeves went well past the tips of my fingers.

Perfect! Quickly, I strode back over to the bed and was about to slip the nightgown off when I peered over my shoulder to see the door unlocked. I lowered my arms uncomfortably. Being in a place I barely knew made me feel a bit weird changing when it was likely that someone was awake. I tiptoed over and locked the door in all three places and ran back to the bed where the shirt was laying. Feeling much more safe, I lifted the nightgown over my head and let it drop to the floor.

- - -

Erik's eyes widened as he saw Christine begin to pull the hem of her nightgown up. His face became a bright shade of red and he whirled around to face the secret door.

_Come, now. You know you want to see…_Taunted the voice. Erik jumped, startled.

_Of course not!_ He snapped back in his mind. _She's just a girl! I have no interest in her whatsoever!_

_You've never really **seen** a woman, have you?_ It cackled menacingly. The emphasis on 'seen' made a shiver go up and down his spine. It was true. He had had seen women, yes, but never really _saw_ one.

_Why don't you just shut up and find another man to taunt?_ Erik thought coolly. A chilling laughter echoed throughout his head.

_Because, they have already experienced what I love to taunt you about._ It chuckled. Erik's eyes widened, but before he could answer the voice, it had gone.

He turned around as soon as he thought she had had enough time to change, still debating with himself silently.

- - -

As I buttoned the shirt, I thought I could see a flash of light coming from the direction of the full length mirror that stood on the other side of the room. I hastened with the buttons and whipped around to see nothing but the cold darkness that had been there before.

_How weird_. I thought to myself, but shrugged it off and climbed back into bed. It wasn't long before sleep came and once again my mind was clouded with images of _him_.

- - -

She was- but, why was she-? Was that his-? Erik felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as he tumbled out of the passageway and clung to the bookcase for support.

_She was wearing his favorite shirt to bed_.

It was almost too much for him to handle after he had just barely met her.

Quickly, he staggered from the bookcase to the bed and sat down with his head in his hands. Why was he acting this way? What quality did this girl possess that made him so crazy?

Morphine. That's what he needed. Something to loosen him up. Alcohol wouldn't be strong enough. It had to be morphine.

His gaze went from the palms of his hands to his bedside table where a single drawer awaited him. So many times he had tried to give up his foul habit…But he just couldn't stay away.

_That damned Daroga needs to try harder!_ Erik nearly choked out a sob.

_He can go to hell._ _I need it now._

Hastily, he yanked the drawer out and threw it on the bed. The contents scattered and Erik's eyes looked over them hungrily. His hand found one needle and before he could think twice, it had plunged into his arm. Not a yelp escaped him; he was used to this sensation by now. Automatically, his eyes closed.

"Thank God." He moaned as the familiar feeling rushed throughout his body. Everything seemed to slow down and he fell back and lay limp on the bed, his eyelids fluttering. All he could keep muttering was 'Thank God'.

Everything in the room seemed to vibrate as a scream of fright filled the air, followed by the shattering of dishes. Very expensive dishes.

"S-sir! What are y-you doing to yourself?"

Erik moaned again in response.

"Pierre! PIERRE! COME QUICK! The master is hurt!" A maid screeched into the hall.

Footsteps by the dozen came echoing into the room. Erik remained still, hoping they'd all just go away.

"SIR! Oh, my God! Jonathan! FOR GOD'S SAKES! THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER! I don't give a damn about whatever is going through your head, just call a bloody ambulance!"

- **&** -

Very…Very…Short…Chapter. I'm so very tempted to turn this into a M phic. But I dunno if that's appropriate for a twelve year old to write. xD (Yes, I'm twelve. You may all hang your mouths in shock now.)

Um. (cough) It seems I have a D in science class, so I probably won't update for an even longer time. ;;

BUT. ON THE PLUS SIDE. I TRIED OUT FOR A SOLO IN CHOIR THIS MORNING! (DANCE)

To my special reviewer **Courtney**,** forbiddenlight** (whom I know in real life as my friend Ashley's sister. Oh, and SHE'S IN WRITER'S CLUB WITH ME AND SUPPORTS MY PSYCHOTIC-NESS, yay! At least. I think she does.), I say OMGHIICAN'TBELIEVETYOUFOUNDME!

….Hehe. XD;;

Even though she doesn't know who the hell Erik is, she gets a plushie anyway!

**REVIEW!**


End file.
